Dear Santa
by best with breadsticks
Summary: ONESHOT Pre-Twilight When Bella goes to Forks a few days before Christmas to see Charlie, she spends some time with Jacob and helps him with his letter to Santa.


Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.

Author's Note: A Pre-Twilight Christmastime story… Bella goes to see her Charlie for a few days before Christmas to exchange presents and such (since she'll in Phoenix for the actual holiday). Jacob is writing a letter to Santa, so Bella joins in to help him.

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Bella Swan sat across the kitchen table from her father's old friend's son, Jacob Black. She was studying his motions as he tried to think of the right thing to say. Who knew a letter to Santa Clause could be _so_ difficult for a five-year-old to write. So far he'd gone through three pieces of notebook paper trying to spell 'Santa' right. Was it really _that_ hard?

Holding up the black ballpoint pen again, he began to spell out the words "Dear Santa.". Jacob spoke aloud the letters as he wrote them; Bella listened for mistakes.

His high-pitched squeak of a voice rang throughout the kitchen of the Swan household. "S – A – N – N –" Bella cut him off before he could finish writing the second 'N'. Was he pretending to not be able to spell correctly or was he just this pathetic for real? Bella sighed to herself.

"What?" He asked, looking up at her. The innocence in his eyes – the kind only children have – radiated up at her. The smile, that played on her face, made her own eyes glow.

Taking the pen from him, Bella made the second 'N' into a 'T'. "San_ta_. Not San_na._ You've got a 'N' where there should be a 'T'."

Jacob looked quite confused, if not a bit heartbroken. He snatched the pen back from her, now scowling.

"Mommy said, Sanna wouldn't mind if I spelled his name wrong. He knows this d-da-da-if-i-cult for me." Jacob rebutted, holding the uncovered pen at Bella – innocent eyes gone. She half-flinched in her chair when he originally waved it towards her, fearing for her white sweatshirt. Little boys, white, and an open black pen…not a good mix.

"Difficult for me." Bella corrected his pronunciation, swatting the pen to the side as she spoke. It was kind of cute the way he had a bit of a stutter and was challenged at pronouncing simple words. Smirking at his adorableness, she leaned back in her chair to protect herself if he should wave the pen once more.

"I is trying!" He tossed his arms in the air to emphasize the point. The black pen was once again his tiny hand and flapping all over the place with his arms, Bella pressed herself into the back of her chair. After a minute or so, his tantrum was over and he plopped back down into his seat.

Sighing, knowing she had just gotten him angry, Bella offered the only thing she could think of to make amends. "Jake, if you don't write on me with the pen, I'll help you with your letter."

His eyes lit up, a grin covering his face. "Yes, peas! And I p-promise to not w-write on you." He bounced his seat, giggling. Bella was filled with almost pure joy as she went over to help him; it felt good to make him happy. She liked his smile. It was lovable.

Bella nodded. "Okay, then. Now," she grabbed the paper from him, sliding it to her side of the table. "What do you want to tell Santa?"

Jacob glanced up at the ceiling as if the answer was written in the stars. After a bit of pondering on his side of the table, a reply emerged from his lips in his high tenor voice. "What size p-pants does he w-wear?"

Bella's right eyebrow rose upward, she stared in confusion. "Why would you ask something so…" She contemplated a fancy word to describe his question for the big man in red. "Stupid."

"You're _stu_pid, stupid." He taunted from across the table, leaning over the kitchen table as he spoke.

"Jacob, honey," his mother's voice rang throughout the kitchen, in a tone known to children as the scolding tone. "Don't call people 'stupid', sweetheart. It's not nice. Santa will put you on his naughty list."

Jacob gasped, how could Santa be so cruel? He had been nice all year. And then suddenly, it's all for nothing. All because of a _stupid_ girl, who probably had cooties. Jacob cringed in his seat at the thought.

If there was one thing he fretted more than Santa being angry with him – and the Clearwater's dog, which chews on his arm anytime he's over their house – is girl cooties. They were just icky.

Bella stuck her tongue out at him. "I win." She gloated to him, grinning.

He mimicked her motion, sticking his tongue out at her. "No, you didn't, cootie girl." Jacob shook his head. He wasn't going to let some _girl_ beat him. That was just degrading for a five-year-old. His friends on the playground won't let him live it down if they found out.

Bella's jaw dropped. How could he ever say something like that? Boys were all cootie-filled liars. "I do not have cooties! You do!" She accused, pointing him. Jacob gasped, furrowing his eyebrows.

"No. I. D-don't!" His tone had grown loader and stronger, more forceful. He stood up on the durable, wooden chair he was sitting on. Both his tone and the sound of him jumping on top of the chair caught the attention of his mother. She strolled her way into the kitchen to calm her son.

"Jacob, sweetheart," She began, her dark hair falling over her eyes. She placed her hand on his shoulder in a motherly fashion, and gently guided him back down into the chair. "No more yelling. It's not polite to yell at a young lady." Brushing the hair from in front of her eyes, she glanced over towards Bella.

Jacob's eyes narrowed. "Bellwa's not a lady. She's a _girl_." Jacob's mother rolled her eyes, ruffling his hair. He reached up to whack her hand out of his hair; he hated it when people played with his hair.

"Why don't you two finish your letters?" Mrs. Black smiled, removing his fingers from her son's hair after feeling his attempt to push her hand away. Kids were easy to forgive each other, unlike teenagers and adults. Bella nodded, grabbing the pen and paper to write down Jacob's questions for the holiday icon.

"Okay," Bella looked up at Jacob. "I'm not going to say anything you say is stupid this time." She smiled at him. Smiling back, Jacob reached for the paper.

"I wanna w-write!" He hastily took the paper and pen away from her for about the third time that day. His mother shook her head, and returned the living room, leaving the two alone again.

"But I thought I was going to help you!" Not only was Bella puzzled at Jacob's sudden change on heart on allowing her to write his letter to Santa, but she was also curious, more than ever, on what he was going to write.

Jacob went right ahead writing, without even glancing up from the paper. His childish scribble was nearly illegible to anyone except for himself. Bella tried to decode his cryptic message he had just manifested on the page. She couldn't decipher the impossible to read message. Santa was going to need take a code cracking class if he was ever going to understand what Jacob wanted.

"Done!" He declared, holding the paper, covered in a mess of ink up, in his hand. Bella strained her neck trying to read the letter. "No, you c-can't see it!" He held the paper tightly to his chest, hiding the written side.

"_Jacob_," Bella whined, stretching her arm out towards the piece of paper. "I just want to see what you wrote!"

"For Sanna!" Jacob stuck his tongue, hopping out of his seat and striding to the doorway out of the kitchen.

Bella lunged at him, in an unsuccessful attempt to seize the letter from him. He probably asked for some Cootie-Be-Gone for her or a rock to throw at her, something silly and boyish, for sure. And even though she knew it was most likely ridiculous, she still wanted to know. What if he told Santa she had cooties, and convinced him not to come to her house for Christmas? She _would _read that letter, if it was the last thing she ever did.

Not bothering to put the letter in an addressed envelope, he bolted for the mailbox outside the house. His mother was alerted by his rush out the door and swiftly followed after him, calling to him. Bella ran behind her, trying to get to Jacob before he put the letter in the mail.

The mailbox was just a bit too high for Jacob to simply reach up and place the letter inside. It took a few seconds of bouncing, but eventually he got the box open. Once open, he tossed the letter inside prior to Bella arriving over by his side. It was too late now. The letter was in the mail. Santa was going to read whatever he wrote without Bella reading it first.

"No!" Bella cried. Her hand just inches from where the letter was seconds ago. She wasn't going to able get his letter now. Her father had told her "Once it's in the mail, it's gone". He had defeated her. Stupid boy.

"Y-yes!" Jacob smiled and cheered. She would never be able to gain the letter now. No cootie-ridden girl would ever show him up. Stupid girl.

Lacking in the way of parting glances, Bella – feeling a cold wind run down her back - scurried back into the house out of the cold with a face of frustration and anger. Jacob followed speedily behind her, grinning to himself. Jacob's mother slide out of the way, allowing them children to get through to the warm comfort of the Swan home.

As soon as the children were safely inside, Mrs. Black causally sauntered over to the mailbox. The door was still open, so it was easy for her to stick her hand in and feel for the haphazardly folded letter her son had just thrown in. She carefully pulled it out, turning it over and over in her hands. She decided it was best she kept it, and merely write a false Santa letter to him, as most parents do.

Spinning around, placing the letter in her pocket – she would hide this among her things at home later. She then ambled towards where the children had just gone.

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Twelve Years Later

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The papers Jacob was shuffling through made a rustling noise as he attempted to find his note for Renesmee. He had just jotted down only a few minutes ago. How was it possible that it was already _this_ lost?

Among the chaos, a certain Christmas letter fell off to one side of the desk he was searching on. His mother's old tin of memorable items had opened while he mixed up everything. Jacob leaned down and grasped it in his large hand, lightly unfolding the worn, dirty paper. Curiosity always seemed to get the best of him.

Smiling, he read his personal note to Santa Clause.

_Dear Santa,_

He could see where he had first written a 'N', but someone had changed it into a 'T'; he couldn't remember who exactly though.

_What size pants do you wear?_

Defiantly not his handwriting, it was much neater and more precise than his own writing at the time. He wondered who had helped him write this. Perhaps Billy? _No,_ he told himself. _This is definitely a child's writing._

The next half of the letter was in his own personal scrawl. He smirked as he skimmed through his words; having a bit of troubling deciphering a couple, but in all it was pretty readable.

_I wat to be Baella's BEASTEST friend ever! Please, Sanna…even thogh I tese her and stuffs, I raelly like her. PLESE! I ben good!_

_-Jacob Balack_

_Plese don't tell Baella my wish! She miht have coties!_

Laughing silently to himself the whole time he read the letter, and a smile forming on his lips, Jacob shook his head. If it wasn't bad enough that he accused Bella of having cooties, but he also spelled his last name wrong. How did he manage that? It's in the dictionary. Plus, instead of 'bestest' he wrote 'beastest', which was highly ironic. He _was _her beastest friend ever.

A full on smile gracing his face, he gazed over the words again and again. Though the romance was never meant to be, there had always been a hope - a flicker of imaginary faith in an inevitable fate that could in no way exist.

But then again, Santa _had_ granted his Christmas wish, so Jacob had to give credit where credit was due. His glanced up at the ceiling for a moment. And then – feeling more and more like a child with ever passing second – he spoke up finally.

"Thanks, Santa."

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Author's Note: I'm not entirely sure if I like how this came out...it's alright. Hope everyone has a good Holiday season! :)

Yeah, I assumed Jacob's mother would still be alive then, so I added her in. I couldn't really imagine Billy scolding him as a child for saying stupid (it's a motherly thing in my mind).


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